You’ve seen Escape From New York. You’ve enjoyed Christine. Maybe you even caught a little Starman on late-night cable and gave it few minutes. Well, if you think you’re up for it, allow me to introduce the John Carpenter motherlode -- Halloween III: Season of the Witch.
No, he didn’t direct it, but he did produce it and write the score. So it seems like kind of a shadow of a J.C. film, and in some ways it is the purest distillation of his technique put to celluloid. It is a glimpse of a movie producing empire that never was, and we’re all the poorer for it. I hardly know where to begin when discussing this unprecedented sequel, but let’s start with what it is not.
Most incredibly, it has nothing to do with Michael Myers or the plot of the first two films. Nothing whatsoever. At this point in his career Carpenter was riding high enough that he fancied himself a producer who could create an entire Halloween franchise – one a year, kind of a Rod Serling series each with its own distinct plot and characters. But if the idea with any sequel is to give the audience more of what they loved, only with bigger explosions and more nudity – this film is the ultimate “screw you” in history.
Second, there is not a witch to be seen in the film, although it could be surmised that the action of the film does still transpire in the forementioned season. But you’d better just forget about seeing that character from the poster in the film, she ain’t there. What we’re treated to is something much more novel: the story of an evil toy manufacturer who has a diabolical plan that would make Heinrich Himmler do cartwheels on his grand piano.
After an awesomely low-tech, pre-Macintosh computer-generated opening title sequence, the action is under way. An old man, carrying a toy mask, runs through the streets of a “Northern California” town frightened for his life. Chasing after him are a bunch of men in gray three piece suits, slicked-back hair, driving Oldsmobiles. They kind of look like a security force from the Christian Coalition – probably intentional. And yes, they wind up killing him.
What ensues is essentially a remake of nothing else than the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Oh yes, it’s all there. An apathetic, consumer-driven public which has become the pawn of evil Rasputins. The main character – a doctor (Tom Atkins) who suspects a societal menace that no one else can see. With a wardrobe filled with “Member’s Only” jackets and lumberjack shirts he takes to the road to uncover the secrets of the SILVER SHAMROCK toy company.
No, he didn’t direct it, but he did produce it and write the score. So it seems like kind of a shadow of a J.C. film, and in some ways it is the purest distillation of his technique put to celluloid. It is a glimpse of a movie producing empire that never was, and we’re all the poorer for it. I hardly know where to begin when discussing this unprecedented sequel, but let’s start with what it is not.
Most incredibly, it has nothing to do with Michael Myers or the plot of the first two films. Nothing whatsoever. At this point in his career Carpenter was riding high enough that he fancied himself a producer who could create an entire Halloween franchise – one a year, kind of a Rod Serling series each with its own distinct plot and characters. But if the idea with any sequel is to give the audience more of what they loved, only with bigger explosions and more nudity – this film is the ultimate “screw you” in history.
Second, there is not a witch to be seen in the film, although it could be surmised that the action of the film does still transpire in the forementioned season. But you’d better just forget about seeing that character from the poster in the film, she ain’t there. What we’re treated to is something much more novel: the story of an evil toy manufacturer who has a diabolical plan that would make Heinrich Himmler do cartwheels on his grand piano.
After an awesomely low-tech, pre-Macintosh computer-generated opening title sequence, the action is under way. An old man, carrying a toy mask, runs through the streets of a “Northern California” town frightened for his life. Chasing after him are a bunch of men in gray three piece suits, slicked-back hair, driving Oldsmobiles. They kind of look like a security force from the Christian Coalition – probably intentional. And yes, they wind up killing him.
What ensues is essentially a remake of nothing else than the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Oh yes, it’s all there. An apathetic, consumer-driven public which has become the pawn of evil Rasputins. The main character – a doctor (Tom Atkins) who suspects a societal menace that no one else can see. With a wardrobe filled with “Member’s Only” jackets and lumberjack shirts he takes to the road to uncover the secrets of the SILVER SHAMROCK toy company.
Now, helping this all along is a soundtrack that sounds strikingly familiar to Ennio Morricone’s work for The Thing. But the amazing thing is that Morricone wrote the best John Carpenter score that John Carpenter never wrote, and then John Carpenter proceeds to rip off that very same score. Throw in a few synthesizer tricks from Escape From New York, and you get the idea. But I digress.
Okay, so we get to Santa Mira (Invasion of the Body Snatchers -- ahem) where the company town is run by a shadowy figure named Conal Cochran. Luckily, this is where the film really gets cooking. Dan O’Herlihy is simply the best white-haired Irish villain in a wool suit driving a vintage Cadillac that you’ll ever see. His company, Silver Shamrock, is responsible for the hottest Halloween masks in America. His plan? To kill every child in America with these masks. His motivation? Pagan human sacrifice.
This insane plot lays fertile ground to one of the most sinister gas-chamber murders you’re likely to see in a “fun” mainstream film, alongside an uttterly bizarre sermon on the Celtic origins of October 31st. The climax resists categorization; think the ending of Raiders of the Lost Ark in a dairy factory.
Now here’s the thing with Halloween III though – it looks fantastic. Dean Cundey had just shot no less than three films in a row for Carpenter and he had the style DOWN. It’s hard not to fall in love with the immaculate Panavision framing, the masterful use of rack-focusing, and Cundey’s understated but stark lighting which should be textbook material for any cameraman.
John Carpenter, limited though his palette may be, also wrote some of the most hypnotic movie scores of his era. Halloween III certainly isn’t going to win any points for originality, but when you marry Cundey’s cinematography with Carpenter/Howarth’s low-tech synthesizer soundtrack, it’s magnetic. These two factors, along with Carpenter’s no-frills storytelling, make for no-BS film viewing at its finest. Director Tommy Lee Wallace competently worked within these parameters. Now if only he could write scripts and direct actors, Halloween III might have more of a following.
Unfortunately, “Season of the Witch” died a painful box-office death and marked the beginning of the end for John Carpenter’s most fertile years as a creative filmmaker. Still, I’d rather watch one of his worst endeavors than 99% of everything else that’s out there.
